


Giant Space Lobsters And A Wedding

by toffeecape



Series: Sandwich 'verse [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alcohol, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Invasion, Allspeak, Angst, Avengers Feels, BAMF Sam Wilson, Biblical Lesbian Wedding Vows, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Crack, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Exploitation of Phobias, F/M, M/M, Multi, POV Tony Stark, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Schmoop, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeecape/pseuds/toffeecape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How was this Tony's life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giant Space Lobsters And A Wedding

Tony Stark had pictured many deaths for himself, some pretty closely. He knew his family and friends (and enemies, let's be real) had envisioned even more.

Somehow, he didn't think 'crushed to death in a giant lobster claw' had been on anyone's radar, and yet.

He wheezed, yanking at his arms where they were pinned to his sides, trying to twist his wrists to aim a repulsor blast at the - Jesus H. Christ - the twelve-foot-long, bright blue crustacean clutching him aloft in its pincers. The lens of the chest repulsor was cracked; any more pressure and the reactor would be compromised. He hoped the resulting explosion would take Pinchy here with him.

"Tony, duck!" Tony hunched as far down as the suit allowed, just in time for Sam to barely miss glancing off the back of his helmet with a wing. Instead, the reinforced edge sheared off all the creature's antennae and eyestalks in one fell swoop. It screeched and dropped Tony to clutch at the top of its head with one claw and blindly grope in front of itself with the other, both claws snapping wildly. Tony barely rolled away from the lower one in time.

Sam banked sharply and climbed; Tony was not too busy admiring the hairpin turn to gain a little height himself. Another lobster snatched at his foot, and Tony put on a huge burst with the repulsors and broke free, recoiling almost as hard as the lobster, its claw now red and black.

"Have we got a visual on what's holding that portal open?" The horizontal, shimmering patch of wrongness was giving Tony Chitauri flashback heebie-jeebies to go with the 'giant fucking lobsters climbed out of it' heebie-jeebies.

"Negative. It's gotta be on the other side." Sam circled back for another pass with his guns. The four lobsters they were engaging were not entirely bulletproof, but also weren't slowed down much by the bullets visibly lodged in their exoskeletons. They mostly just looked as pissed-off as things without faces could look. Even the one now missing its eyes and antennae was still in the fight, albeit facing the wrong way.

"Well then! Let us send a message to the other side!" Thor arrived - how else? - in style, braking to a hover.

"Better late than never, buddy!" said Tony. "What kind of message did you have in mind?"

Thor gave the lobsters what Tony privately thought of as the 'berserker smile'. The wind picked up, and clouds swirled overhead. The lobsters must have sensed the change, because they all - even the blinded one - tucked some of their little feet underneath themselves and fiddled around for a moment, then started rising slowly into the air, wobbling as if hitched to invisible balloons.

"Shit! Flying lobsters!" Sam sounded about as frantic as Tony felt.

"Not for long!" Thor gestured with Mjolnir, and lightning bolts lit up two of the four, which fell back to the ground, scorched and motionless. The one with the burned claw grabbed the one without antennae and towed it toward the portal. Thor struck them off-centre with a bolt as they crossed, and threw another one into the portal before it closed, leaving behind a cloud of steam.

"Ugh, that stinks like a damn cat lady's house," complained Sam.

"Their ocean contains a great deal of ammonia," said Thor.

"So these are definitely the same nasties as the one that popped out in front of Shawarma Palace on Tuesday?" Tony landed and flipped his faceplate open, prodding at the corpses with his foot. The way they were contorted made him think of cooked shrimp.

"That one was summoned by a device, but yes."

One of Tony's cars pulled up, and Natasha hopped out the driver's side door. It was not one of the cars Tony had given everyone keys to, but Tony had long since stopped questioning these things. He _did_ question how she fit both Bruce and Clint inside the two-seater, and bitterly envied Clint for getting squishy with all that adorably rumpled genius.

"Aw man, you finished without us?" Clint lowered his bow, dejected.

Bruce looked at the crispy husks curled on the pavement. "Looks like there wasn't much to finish."

"Well, we didn't know that when we made the call," Tony huffed. "And there were twice as many a minute ago, but two got away."

"Aye, but not unscathed," Thor said. "They will return in force or not at all."

Just then Steve and Bucky sprinted up, moving so fast it was hard to track them with the naked eye. When they stopped, Tony peered at their shoes, looking for smoke.

"Of all the times to be out," Steve said, barely winded. "Sorry, we got here as soon as we could."

"Where were you guys?" Sam said, raising his eyebrows more significantly than the situation warranted. The army bros returned from the Howling Commandos Reunion Tour with a lot of irritatingly opaque non-verbal communication.

Case in point: Steve's blush in response. "I was buying, um, art supplies."

Bucky looked at Tony. "I went to see that guy, Azim."

"Oh, finally! A man needs a good dress suit. And you gave him my card?"

Bucky nodded. "I don't like the way he says 'testicles'," he said. Steve looked faintly alarmed.

"Yeah," said Tony fondly, "but it'll be worth it; nobody makes clothes like an old perv."

"Can we _please_ focus?" sighed Natasha.

Steve blinked. "Right." He looked around; the street was starting to fill up with onlookers. "Let's get Ms. Hill to send some of her people in for clean-up."

"JARVIS called the crew a couple of minutes ago." Headhunting Maria Hill in the wake of SHIELD's collapse had been exciting enough for Tony, but two dozen of SHIELD's finest following her out of personal loyalty (really; they all passed the polygraph) was an HR coup that Pepper still crowed about sometimes. "This is alien autopsy conspiracy gold; they'll have it out of sight before we all make it back home."

"When we get there, I think we need to do a more formal debrief than we did yesterday," Steve said reluctantly. Thor nodded. Bucky glared at the dead lobster-things, as if he wished they would come back to life so he could kill them again.

 

* * *

 

When everyone had made it back to the Tower and was assembled in the living room on the common floor - Tony having consigned his latest suit to be melted down for scrap, with some notes on improved crush resistance - Steve wasted no more time.

"Two days ago, Bucky and I met with Thor, Dr. Foster, and Miss Lewis. Dr. Foster showed us a device sent to her by Ian Boothby, who has been collecting artifacts recovered from the portals which opened during the Battle of Greenwich."

"A silver block; my lady thought it was Asgardian in origin," said Thor, "and in truth it behaved very similarly to a levitating toy she saw during her visit to Asgard. That is, until she demonstrated its properties in front of James."

"The thing responded to my arm," said Bucky. "It looked like it was scanning me, and then it opened a little portal."

"Unstable compared to the one that appeared today," said Thor. "Both water and a single, smaller creature _fell_ out."

Steve said, "It looked around, lifted itself into the air somehow, and shot tail-first back through the portal. It took the block with it, and the portal closed after it."

"Did Dr. Foster have anything to say on the properties of the portal?" asked Tony.

"She said she wished she'd had her instruments with her," said Bruce.

"Aye, and then she and Darcy left for London, to inspect the rest of the Greenwich artifacts," said Thor.

"Thor," said Steve, "you recognize these things. What do you know about them?"

"Very little," said Thor. "Their own word for themselves is-" he made an elaborate series of tongue clicks, "-which I was told translates to 'People'."

"Let me guess," sighed Clint, "all other races being Not-People."

"Correct. They live on Nidavellir, the realm of the dwarves, who dwell underground and take not the slightest interest in the surface of their own world, let alone its oceans. Like the dwarves, they have some fair skill in crafting; I suspect the bodies of those we fought today will be found to have devices attached to their gills, to allow longer forays on land, similar to the one I encountered long ago." Tony's brain shied away from what counted as 'long ago' to Thor.

"Something's bothering me," Natasha said abruptly. "You said that you were _told_ how their name _translates_? What about your Allspeak?"

Thor looked surprised. "Oh, I have neither the age nor the insight for my Allspeak to extend to non-Asgardioid races."

Bruce laughed suddenly. "I was going to say 'don't you mean non-humanoid', but the oldest name does take precedence, doesn't it."

"Yes, that is the rule among biologists," Thor said absently, clearly getting an idea. He shook himself. "I must return to Asgard. I believe there is one there who can assist us: an elder of my people, and a great scholar of the sea life on Nidavellir." He looked at Tony. "If my request is granted, we shall have need of a live prisoner." He got up and strode out, presumably headed for the roof.

"Dude, wait up!" Sam hurried after him. He caught up just on the edge of earshot, saying in an undertone, "While you're there, I got a special request..."

Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Right! Who wants to help me build a giant lobster cage?"

"I do," said Natasha.

Bruce pointed out, "We're going to need some kind of larger holding tank back here as well."

"Good point, big fella. With, what, standard brine, and enough other chemicals on hand to match the ocean composition if Thor's bug guy knows it?"

"Definitely have lots of ammonia," said Steve, wrinkling his nose.

JARVIS spoke up to say, "I believe I have a preliminary chemical profile from the reservoirs which were on the creatures' gills, just as Mr. Odinson predicted."

"We'll want to account for respiration processes altering that; show me where you put the specimens..." Bruce said to JARVIS, wandering off.

"I'm thinking it's time I broke out those taser arrows again," said Clint. He looked at Bucky. "How's Marlene?"

Bucky's grin was all teeth. "Fat, and bored." Aimed accurately (and Bucky's accuracy was, like all things combat-related, terrifying) the sniper rifle was capable of taking out an aircraft. It was also almost as big as Bucky, so it didn't see as much action as the more wearable weapons in Bucky's (vast) collection.

"You know you're gonna leave her for ground fighting eventually," said Steve. "Lemme come help you plan an approach." Steve, Bucky and Clint walked off. Sam would no doubt catch up with them after he finished his mysterious business with Thor.

Tony looked at Natasha. "It's like the team doesn't even need a leader anymore."

"It's still Steve," she said.

 

* * *

 

It was late when Tony tucked himself into bed with Pepper. He did so as quietly as he could, and there was no arc reactor anymore to make the room unnaturally bright at night, but the same darkness meant he bumped into a few things. Pepper was stirring by the time he curled himself around her back. He rubbed a palm over her satiny hip, and whispered, "Go back to sleep, honey."

"Too late," she murmured, rolling over to face him. Her mouth was warm and minty-sweet, her tongue telling his tongue in no uncertain terms that she was pleased with him for trying to sleep like a person tonight. "Are you all ready for tomorrow?"

"As we'll ever be. If they only send four again we're going to look wildly overprepared."

"Trust me, that's a good look."

Tony stroked her hair with one hand and dragged the splayed fingers of the other up and down her chest, fondling her pert little breasts. "I think Bruce forgave me."

"For looking up his ex without talking to him about it?" Her tone was arch.

"Yeah. When he finished with the holding tank he stopped by to check out the cage."

"He's such a dear. I can see why you want him."

"I know, right?"

"Which is why you should put on your big boy pants and just _say so_ , Tony. Rhodey and I both think you should go for it."

"Rhodey always thinks everyone should go for it," Tony said fondly. He wished Rhodey were here right now, working out a Tony-sharing schedule with Pepper. Tony never slept better than when they were passing him back and forth.

"You know what helps _me_ sleep sometimes?" asked Pepper.

Had he said that last bit out loud? "What?"

"A bedtime snack." She rolled onto her back and spread her legs, pushing Tony's head down.  Her grip was weak with sleep, but she twisted her fingers in his hair just enough to hurt a little all the same. He groaned and went eagerly the rest of the way.

"You always have the best ideas," he told her, tucking her feet over his shoulders, head already swimming with her rich, spicy smell.

"I really do," she said smugly, pulling him in with her heel at the back of his neck.

 

* * *

 

Everyone stayed in the Tower on high alert on Friday, quinjet loaded with toys and ready to scramble anytime. The five Avengers with actual soldiering and spying experience sat around reading, playing video games, and snacking. Bruce was also reading.

Tony was going bibbledy.

"I'm going bibbledy," he said to Bruce. "If I tinker anymore with those circuits in my shop, JARVIS and the bots are going to have a new little brother, and I'm not ready to be a father of five, Bruce, I'm just not."

"So, obviously, your next course of action is to come bother me," Bruce said, in that deadpan voice that warmed Tony to his toes.

"Obviously. Whatcha reading about?"

"Lobsters. Did you know that our little ones come in blue too, but only at a rate of one in two million? And pretty much all their moving parts are, developmentally, feet. Antennae, mouthparts, genitals - it's all feet."

"No kidding. What about their eyes?"

"Not sure yet. But they can regenerate lost eyes or any other severed part in a couple of moults."

"I was happier not knowing that." Tony thought about the thing he fought yesterday, growing back its eyes and antennae as it moulted and got bigger, filling with bloodlust. "Do you think they can tell us apart?"

"I suspect your suit would make an impression. Imagine a lobster covered in boiled-looking human skin."

Tony recoiled. "Eurggh! You're just a little ball of sunshine today, aren't you?"

"That's not sunshine; it's gamma radiation."

Tony barked a laugh. Bruce's generous mouth twitched into the little smile he got when he was particularly pleased with one of his own jokes. Tony abruptly felt like the only air left in the room was inside that mouth.

Bruce solved that problem for him by saying, gently, "Tony, why did you go looking for Betty?"

Tony slumped against Bruce's desk, giddy flirting mood and boredom both draining out of him like water. "I dunno," he mumbled, "to see if I could? To see if she was okay? I've met her old man, and the guy needs a padded cell, not a general's command." He fidgeted. _Put on your big boy pants, Tony_. "And," he admitted slowly, "you have to have figured out by now that I like doing nice things for my friends."

Bruce slid his glasses down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is one nice thing you should have talked to me about first."

Tony sighed, "Yeah, I know," but Bruce wasn't done:

"Not least because I could have saved you and JARVIS the effort. We've been writing to each other for years."

Tony boggled. "You mean, like, pen and paper writing?"

"More often pen and postcard on my end, but, yeah. There's a series of PO boxes; it's all very sneaky."

"Do you want to not have to do that anymore? Pepper's probably going to offer her a job anyway; it can come with or without a relocation." Tony groaned inwardly. What was _wrong_ with him? How could he jolly complete strangers into his bed within minutes - sometimes seconds - of meeting him, but the instant he wanted more from someone he turned into a self-sabotaging mess?

Bruce opened his mouth to answer, but just then JARVIS spoke up.

"Your attention, please. I am detecting an electromagnetic signature similar to that of yesterday's portal, opening at South Street Seaport." Bruce was already racing for the elevator.

Tony and Sam were barely in the air before they heard the roar of the quinjet behind them.

"Shit, Bucky!" Clint yelped over the comm, "Can you _not_ fly it like you stole it?"

"Nope."

JARVIS said, "The energy signature is coming from the ruins of Pier 17."

"Well that's something, then: fewer civilians," said Steve, sounding relieved. The pier had been all but destroyed by Hurricane Sandy.

There were fewer civilians, but there was also more cover for the lobsters, and less solid ground for the Avengers to fight them on.

Clint and Bucky made out pretty well from their chosen rooftops. Bucky's ridiculous sniper rifle sounded like a thunderclap whenever he fired it, shattering carapaces like teapots. Clint stuck to lobsters under eight feet long, trying to stun one small enough to shove in the cage. He was having trouble finding the sweet spot between killing them outright and just making them mad.

Steve and Natasha, respectively, worked out a system whereby Tony and Sam, respectively - Sam refused to carry Steve for anything less than a life-threatening emergency anymore - would give them some air and drop them onto lobsters' backs. Steve went for the big ones, prying shell plates apart with his shield and tossing grenades inside, then getting clear before crustacean shrapnel went everywhere. Natasha, like Clint, was trying to stun a smaller one for capture. She, too, was having trouble calibrating the voltage of her Widow's Bite.

Bruce waited in the jet, shirtless, ready to jump out and start smashing as soon as one intact captive was safe in the cage.

When they weren't on Cap/Widow bombing runs, Tony and Sam tried to get a fix on the portal.

"They keep popping onto the pier from different locations," said Sam, "like there's multiple points of origin."

"Or just one, but it keeps moving," said Tony.

"That would suggest a controller," Bruce pointed out.

"Who has a grappling hook?" said Steve.

"I do," chorused Bucky, Natasha and Clint.

"It should probably be me and Bucky pulling - Tony, too. Nat, can I borrow yours?"

"Sure thing, Cap." She ran by and passed it off to Steve, before somersaulting onto the back of another lobster and electrocuting it. She cursed as it screeched and died.

"Okay, Buck. Whoever sees a portal just starting to open first, shoots straight into it and calls the other two over."

"Copy that," said Bucky, obliterating an especially large lobster that was bearing down on Steve from behind.

Tony noticed a patch of water that was curiously smooth, devoid of waves but with a certain wobble to the surface that suggested a strong current beneath. "Cap? Think I might've found what we're looking for, your nine o'clock." Steve whirled, saw the same thing Tony did, and shot the grappling hook through. The line went taut.

"I hit something, anyway- whoa!" Steve was yanked almost off his feet. Tony flew down to grab the line too, firing his foot repulsors to thrust backwards. The force on the other end was insanely strong; Tony found himself at 100% power before he knew it.

Bucky said, "I'm coming down. Switching to sticky grenades." The boom of the sniper rifle stopped, and a few seconds later there was a much larger boom, followed by a series of clacks and, upsettingly, splats.

"Update for you, Stark: the sticky grenades work great. Also there's a slippery patch between the two t-shirt shops now."

"Also also, I might never eat again," muttered Clint.

"Glad to hear it," Tony grunted, "now get over here before your boyfriend loses a tug-of-war with a space lobster." There was an enormous additional pull on their end almost before Tony finished speaking, and the line heaved backwards.

It wasn't a lobster on the other end, though. Nor was it Tony's second bet: a piece of equipment. It had the same general shape as the lobsters, but it was twice the size of the biggest they'd seen so far, and held its head much higher. The grappling hook was embedded just below the thing's mouthparts. Its body was a bewildering kaleidoscope of moving neon colours, as were its compound eyes, which were about the size of volleyballs and _not_ set on stalks. Instead of claws, it had what looked a bit like giant, folded-up golf clubs clutched against its chest. The clubs were pretty clearly augmented with machinery of some kind.

"Get away from the front of that thing NOW!" Bruce shouted over the com, more than a little Hulk in his voice. Tony, Steve and Bucky all dived for cover.

Not a moment too soon. There was a flash, and a sound not unlike the simultaneous crack-and-boom Thor made when he triggered a lightning strike nearby. There was no scorch mark when Tony turned to look, though. Instead, a twenty-foot section of the pier, in a cone directly in front of the creature, was just - gone. So was most of the grappling line. As Tony watched, the thing used its mouthparts to prise the grappling hook out of its shell and toss it aside. Then there was another flash, and another crack-and-boom - muffled compared to the first; Tony realized his ears were ringing - and the creature stepped delicately through a portal that had appeared directly in front of it.

"Dammit!" said Natasha. "They're all making for that portal! We still haven't stunned one." The lobsters had, in fact, started skittering as one in the direction of the portal, ignoring them all completely. 

"HULK CATCH." The largest of the blue lobsters barely cleared the Hulk's knees as he waded into the line of marching blue shapes, carefully picked one up (it waved its claws indignantly) and shut it inside the cage he had tucked under one arm. He looked uncertainly at the rest of the lobsters, which parted around him like water but otherwise took no notice of him. "NO FIGHT? BRUCE WANT SMASH."

"Sorry, bud," said Clint. "They needed a lot more smashing a minute ago." The Hulk rumbled his disappointment, a noise that shook the pier. The ruins creaked ominously.

"Tell you what," said Tony. "Let's get our lobster friend here stowed in the quinjet, and then you can smash up the rest of this pier. It's scheduled for demolition anyway."

The Hulk seemed agreeable to this, but once the cage with its squeaking, hissing, clicking occupant was safely aboard, Tony sprang the second part of his plan. "How common are multicoloured neon morphs among Earth lobsters, do you think?"

The Hulk glared. "SNEAKY." He was already shrinking and pinking.

Bruce shook his head and climbed into the jet. "You can't count on that to work every time, you know. He could just as easily ignore you, or relay my answer instead."

"Well, I'm glad it worked this time," said Steve, "I was not looking forward to explaining to Ms. Hill how we left a bunch of wreckage just floating in the harbor."

Bruce nodded, then said, "That thing you pulled out of the portal looked a lot like a mantis shrimp. Ours are only a foot long, but they pack a hell of a punch; enough to rip open cavitation bubbles in the water and shatter aquarium glass."

"Apparently the Nidavellir version can rip holes in the fabric of reality," said Natasha.

"I'm really glad you told us to get out of the way," said Bucky.

"Same species or not, that big shrimp dude was pretty clearly in charge," Sam pointed out. "As soon as he noped out of there all the lobsters followed."

Tony nudged the cage with his foot. "All except you, little fella. I really want to know what Thor's bug guy wants a live one for."

 

* * *

 

"To interrogate, of course," explained the tiniest, most ancient woman Tony had ever laid eyes on. She was about 25% eyes, which glittered cheerfully behind thick glasses, and another 25% snow-white hair, in a thick braid that reached well past her waist. The rest of her was all crepe-y, liver-spotted skin, spindly limbs, and trembling little voice.

Tony had an immediate and severe grandma-crush. Judging by the dazzled expressions of most of his teammates, he wasn't the only one. To be fair, some of them may have been looking at the statuesque, black-braided young woman gently holding the old woman's arm.

"Lady Heming has long studied the marine life of the nine realms, and particularly the races of Nidavellir," said Thor. "Her Allspeak extends to them, and so in her presence we will all be able to understand the creatures."

"Races," said Bruce, "so was the portal-generating type we saw today a separate species after all?"

Heming's face creased in a starburst smile. "You would think so," she creaked, "but that is in fact the gender morph they call 'digger', which is similar to your male peacock, though they can be either sex; eggs and sperm are equal in energy cost, and fertilization is external in the digger's cave, which is then defended by the 'fighter' morph - the plain blue ones, which form all take until adulthood." She looked like she would say more, but checked herself. "But where are my manners? I haven't allowed young Thor to introduce his friends to us!" When she said 'us', she gestured at herself and her companion.

"Of course." Thor went around the room, describing everyone in uncomfortably grand terms. Finally he beamed at them all. "My friends. Allow me to introduce the renowned scholar, Lady Heming, and her great grand-niece, my good friend and fellow warrior, the Lady Sif." Both ladies bowed.

"And now," Heming said eagerly, "let our illustrious company proceed to the holding room. It is long since I spoke with one of the People." There was a curious doubling sensation when she said the last word; if he concentrated, Tony knew that she'd actually made the same tongue clicks Thor did during the debriefing yesterday, but he also could swear that she'd said the word 'People' at the same time, clear as day.

“Okay,” said Clint, “That’s going to mess with my hearing aids something fierce. I’ll go switch ‘em out for a pair that _didn’t_ just get scrambled by a firefight with a side of sonic booms.” He left the group.

It only got weirder in the room with the holding tank Bruce had designed. The lobster scrabbled forelornly in the corner, clicking away, just as they'd left it; if one ignored the way it was seven feet long, bright blue, and trying to kill them all hours ago, it looked like the last lobster in the tank at a seafood restaurant. As they drew closer, the scrabbling became accompanied by indistinct muttering - that is, until it twisted an eyestalk and caught sight of them.

It pressed itself against the glass, clicking and squeaking, which sound was overlaid by a furious, hissing voice that said:

"Inside-out, air-sucking nightmares! Release me at once!"

"I'm hurt," Tony said automatically. "After we got you this lovely guest suite and everything!" Steve shot him a glare.

"It stinks like a used gill mask," the lobster said, before doing what was probably a double-take, jerking backward into the tank.

"That is what we had to work out the water composition from," Bruce explained, presumably to Heming and not the lobster, judging by how quietly he spoke.

"It will not be harmed; you did well, dear," she said at the same volume. She stepped forward and raised her voice. "Youngster, do the People remember me?"

"It's been over five hundred years, Auntie," said Sif; but the lobster stepped forward and bobbled its eyestalks, and said in a tone of amazement, "Talking Jelly."

Heming beamed. "That is what I was called, yes. Have you a name, yet?"

"I haven't any berries," the lobster said absently, "Talking Jelly is just a story!"

"I am as real as you," Heming said. "Big youngster like you, your berries can't be more than one moult away, two at most. What _will_ be your name?"

The lobster sounded almost shy as it said, "I think I'll moult fighter, first, so I thought I might call myself-" it shook itself, and raised its claws. "Well, _now_ I think I'll call myself Slaughters Insolent Stick Jellies!" It threw itself against the glass, which shuddered.

"That's the same glass as in the Other Guy's cell on the helicarrier," Bruce said, "it'll hold."

"Youngster," Heming persisted, "why are the People invading Midgard?"

"We seek a relic," the lobster grated, "belonging to All The Eggs Hatch."

"That is a _very_ big name," said Heming, sounding surprised. Quickly, she explained to the group, "Half of each clutch is eaten in the winter when the parents migrate; either the sinking half if it is a winter when anemones come, or the floating half if it is a winter of - hm, you would call them medusa jellyfish." Raising her voice again, she said, "It must have been a fierce fighter, to have such a name."

"Indeed," said the lobster, "it was fighter-parent to half the People in our territory, until it disappeared into thin water seven years ago."

"That is about seventy years on Midgard," said Thor.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and groaned, "Schmidt."

"The Red Skull was constantly experimenting with the Tesseract," Steve explained. "More than a few things fell through."

"Including a giant lobster," Bucky sighed. "At least, that's what I overheard. Which puts a couple things together for me, actually." He stepped up to the glass and raised his metal arm, already exposed by his tactical vest. He drummed his fingers on the glass and asked, "This your relic?"

The lobster brought its eyestalks close to the glass. "It is a prosthetic limb such as All The Eggs Hatch was using when it vanished, and such as triggered a search beacon at last. But - but how can _you_ be using it?"

Bucky said, "It took this shape when I was brought near it. I'd just lost my old arm."

"Impossible!" The lobster hissed, "Gross blasphemy! Prostheses are for use by People!"

"Uh oh," Steve muttered.

Bucky bristled. "Izzat a _problem_ , buddy? Hey! You wanna know what else? It installed _itself_ , how d'you like that?"

"You lie!"

"Oh, my God," Sam said thickly. Pararescues were paramedics; Tony could guess what Sam was picturing. Tony had seen the scans: the metallic mesh encasing the pectoral girdle and spinal column; the fibres integrated with the spinal cord, some reaching right up into the brain, so many that the arm was flawlessly mapped as a part of Bucky's body, sensation equal to the right arm minus pain. _Beautiful_ , Tony had thought, _almost organic_.  He'd wondered how it was accomplished, knowing it was probably terrible. He would rather have kept wondering.

“Okay, I got some fresh hearing aids in. How’s it going with Pinchy?” Clint wandered in; he’d also changed into a t-shirt featuring the HYDRA octopus, being skewered on a spear held aloft by a glowering SHIELD eagle, and the slogan ‘Cleanup Crew 2014: Moar Cleaner’. SHIELD aesthetics, when they weren’t dark and dreary, ran toward the wildly tasteless.

Even so, the lobster’s reaction seemed disproportionate. It snapped its tail under itself, shooting as far back in the tank as it could get. “Warm Hugs!” it shrieked, all menace and outrage replaced by abject terror. “Warm Hugs!” It clawed at the back wall of the tank. Suddenly it stopped, seeming to collect itself somewhat, and tossed a metallic block from its underside into the middle of the tank. It split into a cloud of smaller blocks, which flashed blue for an instant before forming a small portal, through which the lobster scrambled with frantic haste; the blocks trailed it, and the portal snapped shut. The whole thing took less than ten seconds.

“What.” Clint said flatly.

“That’s their term for the most fearsome predator in their ocean,” said Heming. “It resembles your octopus, though it eats more like your starfish and spider combined, wrapping its arms about the cephalothorax and injecting an exothermic, corrosive venom. All the People save the eldest react with absolute panic at the sight of one.”

“You know,” said Bucky slowly, “back in the day, it was HYDRA policy to plaster their logo everywhere, including a huge ugly banner in any room larger than a broom closet.”

“I think we can guess what happened to All The Eggs Hatch,” said Natasha.

“ _Who_?” asked Clint.

“I’ll catch you up in a minute,” Natasha assured him.

“It had that device with it all along,” said Thor. “It could have left at any time.”

“It was gathering intelligence as much as we were,” said Steve.

Bruce was staring at Bucky’s arm. “A shapeshifting prosthesis,” he said softly, wide-eyed.

Heming sighed. “Yes, it is really too bad they are so isolationist. Their crafts are more practical than those of the dwarves, but no less wondrous. I once petitioned them for an eye for the Allfather. It… did not go well.”

“Well, they can’t have this one back,” Bucky growled, clenching his fist so hard the servos whirred. “Maybe I didn’t choose it, but it’s mine now.”

“You’re damn right.” Steve sounded even more pissed than Bucky.

“That is precisely the argument we will make, young man,” said Heming firmly. “But first we will have to fight them to a standstill.”

“Oh, good,” said Sif. “I could use a battle.”

Tony said, “I can think of something extra we’re going to bring to this one. JARVIS?”

 

* * *

 

Later, after pizza and planning, everyone split off to do whatever they usually did to relax ‘on the eve of battle’, as Thor said. Natasha and Clint went down to the shooting range. Sam commandeered the common floor kitchen to do some baking; he wouldn’t say what he was making, just that it was for Sunday dinner. Sif parked herself in the kitchen, too, having taken an interest in Sam’s wingsuit and then, apparently, in Sam. Thor went off to Skype with Dr. Foster. Bruce was picking Heming’s brain; Tony intended to join them, as soon as he checked on Steve and, especially, Bucky, who’d been getting steadily more withdrawn all evening. Sometimes when he got like that, he and Steve wound up destroying the gym, or sparring until they’d half-destroyed each other. Tony wasn’t sure what he could do to stop them if that was what they were doing now, but he still wanted to know at least.

They _had_ been in the gym; Tony’s latest offerings in supersoldier-proof punching bags were heavily scuffed (but, he was pleased to see, still in one piece - his latest design improvements were working). There were quiet voices coming from the change room. Tony crept closer, trying to move quietly in case he shouldn’t interrupt.

“It reached for me, you know, when they brought it in," Bucky said, dully, as if all his horror circuits were blown. “It chose me because we’re the same: shapeless, grasping, desperate. I was so fuckin’ lost without you, Stevie, just an empty puppet, gimme a gun and point me wherever.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve said. “I read your file; you were twenty goddamn years in their hands-”

“-in cryo-”

“- _in their hands_ before they got you into the field, and always one hell of a hassle even then.” His tone became, somehow, even more serious. “And you’ve got it backwards, besides; I barely knew which way was up without your eyes on me. And _I_ had my whole melon to work with.”

“Are you sure, because mostly my eyes are saying _Steve, no_ , or _this is a bad idea, Steve_.” Bucky sounded grumpy, but more animated than before, at least.

“Well, that’s just your common sense talking. We’re none of us perfect.”

Bucky made a choked noise that was much too wet to be a laugh. There was a soft rustle.

Tony peeked around the corner. The two of them were sitting on the bench, arms wrapped around each other. Bucky’s right hand had a white-knuckled grip on Steve’s sweatshirt, and his face was buried in Steve’s neck. Steve had one hand tangled in Bucky’s hair - coming loose from the bun Bucky favored - and the other looked like it was clutching at Bucky’s back. They rocked together, just slightly, like a single bulky animal made of muscle and metal and grief.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve rasped. Bucky’s only response was the tiniest of whimpers.

Tony tiptoed away as softly as he could. He had some idea what those two were going to get up to next, but he was not quite enough of a dirty old man to keep watching.

 

* * *

 

" _You've reached the personal voicemail of James Rhodes. I can't come to the phone right now; I'm busy being a badass. Leave a message_."

"Hey, Rhodey, it's me. Remember how you made me promise to call you if aliens ever attacked New York again? Well, this is me calling. Today probably counted as a small attack; yesterday was more like a scouting party." Tony paced on the balcony. "Tomorrow is looking like it's going to be a bigger deal."

"We've got it handled. The gang's all here; Thor even brought his friend Lady Sif, and her great-aunt, this Asgardian zoologist." Tony broke into a grin. "Rhodey, man, she's the littlest, oldest lady I've ever met in my whole life; she's the granniest granny to ever granny. And her Allspeak works on the lobsters - the aliens, they're giant blue lobsters from space, except when they're giant mantis shrimp from space. How is this my life?"

"Anyway, that's what's new with me. I know you only got deployed five days ago, so I doubt I'll see you anytime soon, but I got _ideas_ for when I do. Catch you later, buddy." He ended the call, and looked out over the city for a bit.

"I didn't know granny was a verb, now." Heming's voice almost startled Tony out of his skin.

Tony babbled, "Oh, you know, it's a thing with English, you can use almost any noun or adjective as a verb and other English-speakers will understand what you mean- and, you, you're messing with me."

Her eyes twinkled. "We little old ladies have to get our amusement where we can."

Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Ah, yeah, I'm really sorry you heard that."

"Why? It's perfectly true. It caused quite a stir among my colleagues when the first Midgardians began working with bronze. I was more interested in your sea slugs, myself."

Tony gaped at her. "History's not really my thing, but metallurgy is. That - that was over five thousand years ago."

She nodded. "Indeed. I was a young woman, then, but only just."

"Why did you come put yourself at risk here?" What the hell kind of interstellar incident would it cause if a single hair on her tiny head came to harm?

She said serenely, "As I said, we old ladies have to get our amusement where we can."

 

* * *

 

The crusty fuckers picked Manhattan Beach for their big showdown. Tony _could_ be more pissed, but it would take some doing. They were just lucky it wasn't Coney Island; Steve, Bucky, _and_ Clint would've gone apeshit.

There was no more fuckery with appearing and disappearing portals; there was just one enormous one underwater, about a hundred meters offshore, with lobsters marching out of it and up onto the beach.

There was also no more fuckery with trying to capture one alive. Clint was back to using exploding arrows, Natasha was free to use the full voltage of her gauntlets, and the Hulk was free to smash. Which was good; there were a lot more lobsters this time.

A _lot_ more. The beach was thick with curled corpses, shattered shells and chunks of pale grey flesh. The sand was stained with watery blue blood; Tony hoped it wasn’t too toxic. He was pretty sure Heming would have said if it was; joking aside, she was a practical sort. She was observing the battle from inside the quinjet, with Clint and Bucky on top of it and Sif in front of it, sword flashing and lobster parts flying anytime one got close enough. Thor only had to throw a couple of lightning bolts to help out.

“Anyone having flashbacks to the Chitauri?” Tony asked.

Steve catapulted Natasha on his shield; she somersaulted through the air and landed on a lobster’s back, jamming her Bite between the shell plates and frying it extra-crispy. “Just a bit,” Steve said.

"You mean how the ones in charge are sitting pretty on the other side, sending the grunts in to die? It's not just the Chitauri who know that trick." Sam's voice was bitter.

"No handy-dandy nuclear missiles this time," Clint pointed out.

"No," said Bucky, "but I do have a spare bandolier of grenades, and Clint has a speargun."

"Clint, why do you have a speargun?" Natasha demanded.

"It just seemed like a good thing to have!"

"Will the grenades detonate underwater?" Steve asked.

"If they're mine, they will," said Tony.

"They're Stark grenades," confirmed Bucky.

"Alright, give 'em here," said Sam. He banked low over the quinjet, grabbed the speargun and bandolier, and was zooming out toward the portal before Tony had even finished blasting his current opponent.

"Sam, you've got no air supply!" Steve sounded alarmed.

"Sure I do; it's called my lungs!" Sam reached the location of the portal and climbed straight up, then folded his wings tight and stooped like an actual fucking falcon, a small black shape rocketing straight down. He disappeared beneath the waves with barely a splash.

Sif chopped a lobster in half with a grunt of effort. "What is the Son of Wil doing?"

"Something crazy," Steve said.

Time slowed to a crawl; thirty seconds ticked by, then sixty. Everyone was paying a bare minimum of attention to their respective fights, focused on the surface of the water.

"How deep is that portal?" Tony asked.

"Deep enough that anyone with a breathing apparatus would need to undergo a depressurization period before rejoining the battle," said JARVIS, "but Sam is free-diving. He can resurface at any time."

"He'll be fine," Natasha said nervously, "you all forget he was a pararescue. They have to do this and saw into a downed airplane at the bottom just to graduate."

"Two minutes and I'm going after him, depressurization or no," Tony bit out, "one forty-five. One fifty-" Sam burst from the water, whooping over the com, followed closely by a geyser of white foam.

"Direct hit!" he crowed. "You're _welcome_!" Thor burst into relieved laughter.

"These instruments indicate that the portal is still there," reported Heming. "No more small shapes are coming through, but one very large one _is_. I suggest you eliminate as many distractions as you can before it makes land."

There were still several dozen lobsters alive on the beach. "What do you say, Cap? Time to spring our little surprise?"

"Yeah. Bucky, Clint, Lady Heming: deploy warm hugs." A light on the quinjet flickered on, and holographic projections started to flicker into existence. A panel opened on the roof of the quinjet, and Bucky and Clint started firing small loads from air cannons onto the beach; little parachutes eased their landings.

"Warm hugs deployed," Clint said with mixed relish and disgust.

Every live octopus for sale yesterday in New York and New Jersey began crawling about, looking angry and confused. A dozen more large holographic ones mimicked them.

"I don't even have a phobia and that's creeping me out," Sam commented.

"I think I saw a porno like this once," said Tony thoughtfully.

The lobsters very satisfyingly lost their shit, screaming and flailing. Bucky and Clint actually suffered a decrease in accuracy as their targets stopped moving in rational directions, but they were sitting ducks for the rest of the team, especially the Hulk, who appeared to be playing a grisly form of hopscotch.

Sam warned, "Wrap it up; we got company!" A huge, blue (Tony was fervently glad to see blue and not neon) shape was heaving itself out of the surf: a fighter-morph like the others, but this one was at least twenty feet long.

When only its belly remained in the water, it stopped and surveyed the scene. Maybe a dozen lobsters were still alive, running in circles or quaking in place, while the Hulk picked them off.

Finally the big one spoke. The Allspeak rendered its voice as deep and booming. "You learned of our youngsters' fear of Warm Hugs. Such a trick will not work on me. Where is the one bearing my sibling's claw?"

"Here!" Bucky shouted, much closer than he should have been. He shot an apologetic look at Thor. "She insisted on getting out." Heming was walking down the beach between himself and Sif. Clint stalked behind them, arrow nocked.

Finally she stopped, but Bucky kept walking until he was almost within reach of the big lobster's claws. The others drew off to either side. Bucky's arms hung at his sides, fingers twitching - in Army sign. Very quietly, Steve drew farther back than the others, and indicated to Thor to do the same on the other side. Tony didn't let on that he'd noticed.

The big lobster lowered its eyestalks and inspected Bucky. "Unperson thief," it rumbled, "what was my sibling's name?"

"We already know that," Heming said, confused. "It was All The Eggs Hatch."

"No," Bucky said slowly, "you're saying it wrong." He looked at the big lobster. "You lose half your eggs every winter, because you aren't there to protect them; Lady Heming said you migrate. But the one my arm," he tapped his arm, "came from, it stayed behind, didn't it? It fought through the winter for them."

"Winter Soldier," whispered Natasha, but Bucky wasn't done.

"Its name meant the way things are isn't good enough. It meant everybody lives, nobody dies, all the _fucking_ eggs hatch!" He glared ferociously at the big lobster. " _That_ was your sibling's fuckin' name."

There was a long silence, and finally the big lobster admitted, "Correct."

Bucky relaxed minutely, but the big lobster went on. "However, divining a name by trickery does not a Person make. _My_ name is Vent Worm Cutter; I walk into poison and come out with what I want. And what I want, thief, is my sibling's claw." The lobster - Vent Worm Cutter - raised its gargantuan claw high for a blow.

Bucky ran backwards, yelling, "I didn't steal shit! And that was no trick; it was plain good sense." His voice lowered, and he smiled as he said, " _This_ is trickery."

Just then, Thor zoomed into range and hurled Steve shield-first onto Vent Worm Cutter's carapace. The instant the shield lodged itself, Steve gave it a huge, heaving twist. The cracked shell gaped apart, and Thor trained a steady current of lightning on the exposed flesh. The big lobster froze, emitting a piercing shriek; it was, Tony realized, nauseated, the same noise Earth lobsters made when they were boiled, caused by steam escaping the shell.

The noise stopped when the Hulk bounded up, clutching two 'small' lobsters (both about ten feet long) by the tail, and clapped Vent Worm Cutter's head between them both. The entire cephalothorax shattered. Smoking chunks sizzled as they hit the water. Steve yanked his shield free and leapt clear as the enormous corpse slumped sideways.

" **THAT. IS. ENOUGH.** "

This voice was so deep it wasn't so much heard as felt. Clint screamed and ripped out his hearing aids. Tony looked around wildly.

There was a glowing neon rainbow under the water. It was getting closer, and brighter.

"Oh, my," said Heming, "a digger elder."

"BIG SMASH," said the Hulk, sounding very impressed.

The eyes that emerged from the water were four feet in diameter each if they were an inch. The head region as a whole was bigger than the quinjet. Tony couldn't see the clubs, but he figured this digger had to be the one holding open today's enormous portal.

" **MY CHILD WAS A FOOL.** "

"As you say," said Heming carefully.

One fronded antenna waved at Bucky. " **THIS ONE IS SENSIBLE.** "

"Indeed. And the prosthesis responded to him freely."

" **SO I HEAR.** "

"His freedom was stolen by the same ones who stole your other child's life. They and their ilk remain a plague upon Midgard."

The enormous eyes regarded Bucky. " **DO YOU FIGHT THEM STILL?** "

" _Yes_ ," said Bucky.

" **YOU COULD NOT WIELD MY CHILD'S LIMB WERE IT NOT SO. KEEP IT AS LONG AS YOU NEED.** "

"What will you tell the People?" Heming asked curiously.

" **THAT IT WILL BE RETURNED WHEN THE LIMB GROWS BACK.** " One of the two eyes flickered - a wink, Tony realized, feeling past all surprise.

" **TALKING JELLY. YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT THE HOLDFASTS.** "

Heming's mouth dropped open. "Little Urchin? Is that you?" But the gargantuan shape was already receding back beneath the water.

The sudden silence on the beach was surreal. There was only the breeze and the surf, and the approaching cries of the first, most courageous seagulls.

"If that was who I think," said Heming slowly, "I need to revise my estimates of the maximum possible age of the People."

"So that's it?" Steve asked, sounding incredulous. "No more aliens trying to take Bucky's arm?"

“An elder’s word is absolute,” said Heming. “And the People do not associate with other races. I do not think there will be any more claims to your arm from that quarter, young man.” She beamed at Bucky, and squeaked with surprise when he snatched her into a (very careful) hug. She patted his back with her tiny hand.

Clint nudged Natasha and started signing and speaking at the same time. “Cliff notes, Tasha,” he pleaded loudly, “what the _fuck_ just happened?”

 

* * *

 

Maria Hill approached Nick Fury levels of apoplexy over the cleanup job relegated to her and her crew, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves at the same time. The SHIELD policy of ‘the reward for a job well done is a harder job’ skewed its administrative ranks towards a certain flavor of masochist.

Her complaints ran off the Avengers like water. All their energy was focused on the now-traditional post-battle refueling: tonight it was Italian takeout, heavy on the pasta dishes, but with a pass on the shrimp scampi. Tony generally ordered for thirty when all eight of the regulars were present, which resulted in just enough leftovers for a couple of people (who weren’t Steve, Bucky or Thor) to have lunch the next day.

Between the addition of Sif, and Dr. Foster and Darcy returning from London in time for Dr. Foster to meet Heming (who ate about as much as a gerbil and didn’t figure into his calculations), Tony opted to order for forty instead.

“You know we have Sunday dinner tomorrow night,” Natasha reminded him.

“I have faith in this team’s ability to make noodles disappear,” Tony replied.

“Point.”

When everyone was finally less hungry than tired, they sat around the common floor living room, dispersing only gradually. This happened a lot when the fight was a hard or frightening one, Tony had found; people wanted to reassure each other of their continued survival, on some irrational level that needed prolonged company before it was satisfied. Tony had never asked, but he was pretty sure most of the team only split off in the end to have victory naps, possibly followed by victory sex.

Certainly that was his own pattern. He barely managed to strip out of his smelly undersuit before he pitched forward into his bed and slept like a log until the wee hours of the morning, when he woke up horny as hell. Which worked out well, because Rhodey was sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed like a creeper.

Tony jumped about two feet in the air. “Rhodey!” The shock of adrenaline had no effect whatsoever on his boner.

“Did you know, Tony,” Rhodey said conversationally, “That I have started to think of being deployed into the hottest firefights on Earth as relaxing vacations from the nonstop insanity that is your life?”

“Uh, I’m really glad to see you back in one piece? Buddy?” Rhodey crawled up the bed like an irritated big cat, flattening Tony beneath him. Again, boner: unfazed.

“Your fire-breathing girlfriend has delegated to me the task of explaining to you why one voicemail,” Rhodey ran his hands down Tony’s arms, encircling his wrists with a grip that couldn’t be much harder if he was wearing the War Machine (fuck that Iron Patriot noise, it would always be War Machine) gauntlets.

“...hours before a full-scale alien invasion,” he yanked Tony’s arms up above his head.

“... _which_ was mounted for the express purpose of attempting to repossess an American war hero’s prosthesis - yeah, Pepper filled me in on that bit,” he transferred both of Tony’s wrists into one hand, gripping Tony’s jaw with the other. Overkill; Tony was in no way, shape or form capable of looking away from him.

“...does not count as keeping me in the loop.”

Tony yanked experimentally on his wrists; they didn’t budge. “What kind of explanations did you have in mind?” he breathed, already feeling tingly all over.

“Oh,” Rhodey’s smile was all teeth, “I got some _ideas_.”

 

* * *

 

Tony was sitting on his special cushion, drinking a smoothie and contemplating the circuitry that was 90% of the way to being another robot, when Bucky wandered into the shop.

“Can I borrow your smallest welding torch?” he asked.

“What for?”

“I want to weld something.”

“Is this some kind of modification to your arm?” Bucky fidgeted tellingly.

“Because, Bucko, you know I am all for bodily autonomy, especially when it comes to cyborg parts, but you also know how badly your arm takes to welding and soldering." Tony himself had whiled away many a happy hour scraping at the inside of the beautiful chassis, removing the remnants of HYDRA's attempts to gild the lily. There was still some to go. "You even know why, now. Tell me what you need; let’s see if we can’t come up with something better than a plain weld.”

Bucky explained. Tony was completely silent for about ten seconds, then said, “I have just the thing.”

 

* * *

 

The common floor kitchen filled up a lot sooner than most weeks. It seemed like everyone had something special in mind. There were so many people that some were cooking or baking in their suites and bringing dishes down. The table was actually groaning by the time everything was in place, and there was no hope of anyone sitting at it. They were going to have to eat in the living room.

Of course, they needed the living room for something else, first.

“Is all the food ready? Does anyone need more time, or is anybody not here?” Clint called out. “No? Good. Everybody into the living room.”

Steve and Bucky were already standing up by the balcony, Steve in a nice suit, and Bucky in a _very_ nice suit - Azim had really outdone himself. Clint parked himself between them, turning to face the room as everyone filed in and found seats. Tony settled himself between Rhodey (eyebrows climbing for what was once his hairline) and Pepper (pre-emptively nibbling on her knuckles, eyes already glittering). There was a tablet propped up on the coffee table; on the screen, DUM-E, Butterfingers, and U crowded around to watch the proceedings. It was the only way Tony could get them to stay in the shop.

"Best men?" Sam went and stood behind Steve, and Natasha behind Bucky.

"When did _you_ get ordained?" Natasha asked Clint.

Clint shrugged. "Before we met, for a mission. But I'm still on the books, so." He looked at Steve and Bucky, who were staring at each other, wide-eyed. "You boys ready?" They nodded shakily.

Clint raised his voice. "Okay! Thank you all for coming. I'm Clint Barton-"

"Everybody knows, Clint," Sam said, face buried in his palm. Clint glared.

"Shut up, this is part of making it legal!" He raised his voice again. "-and I'm ordained through the Universal Life Church-"

"That's an _Internet_ church," Rhodey whispered, scandalized.

"It still counts," Pepper hissed back.

"-and registered as a marriage officiant with the State of New York. For those of you who weren't involved in planning this thing, we are here today for the wedding of Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes. Because they weren't married enough already." Assorted laughter and gasps broke out in the room. Pepper muffled a squeak against her knuckles. Clint cleared his throat and went on, warming to his subject.

"People keep getting married, because as cool and modern as we pretend to be, community is still important to us. When partners get up and commit themselves to each other in front of their friends and family, that means something."

"Now, these guys don't have a lot of relatives left, on account of being the only two users of the world's worst time travel method, but I think we all agree that we're proud to call them friends, and that to most of the people in this room, they are surely family."

"That was beautiful," Natasha told him. Steve and Bucky were suspiciously shiny-eyed.

"Thank you. Sam? Tasha? State your full names, please."

"Samuel Thomas Wilson."

"Natalia Alianovna Romanoff."

"And are you prepared to sign as witnesses to Steve and Bucky's marriage today?"

"Yes," they said simultaneously.

"Okay, good." He turned to Bucky. "You wanted to go first, right?" he asked. Bucky gave him a jerky nod. "Alright. Bucky, I need you to say what you're here to do today."

"I'm here to marry Steve," Bucky said, looking a little stunned after saying the words out loud.

"You wanna say a few words about why?"

"Yeah, okay." He turned to Steve, and cleared his throat. "I've wanted to do this since I was either seventeen, or seven, depending on how seriously you wanna take certain declarations. You know which ones."

"I know which ones, yeah," Steve said hoarsely.

"We mighta been too young then, but seeing as I'm either ninety-eight or at _least_ thirty-three now, and you're turning either ninety-seven or thirty in a couple of weeks- I'm getting off track, here."

Steve took his hands, and Bucky took a deep breath, and said, "Steve. You cracked my poor scorched nut with a single word. You gave me my name and called me your friend when I'd forgotten I was even a _person_. I've been lost in some very dark places, and the light in you finds me every time. You are, and have always been, my favorite thing in this life. Of _course_ I want to marry you."

"Wow," Tony murmured. Who knew his taciturn friend had that in him?

Steve wiped his eyes. "Letting you go first was such a mistake," he muttered.

"Take your time, buddy," said Clint. "Think of all the food waiting in the other room when you get through this."

Steve laughed wetly. "Okay, go."

"Steve, what are you doing here today?"

"I'm gonna marry Bucky." Steve broke into an amazed little smile as he said it.

"You wanna say why?"

"Alright." He turned back to Bucky, and took his hands again.

"You know me, Bucky, like no one else does, like no one else could. You've seen the very worst of me, and you're still here. I'm - I'm my best self when I'm with you; I learned how to be my best self because of you. I want to marry you, Buck, because wherever you are is the place I want to be." There were audible sniffles in the room after Steve finished speaking.

"Okay," Clint said quietly, "good declarations of intent, guys, nice job. The next bit's the vows." He turned to Bucky. "Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

Clint turned to Steve. "And do you, Steven Grant Rogers, take James Buchanan Barnes to be _your_ lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Who has the rings?"

"Me," said Bucky, pulling out a little box. He looked Steve in the eye and said, "Entreat me not to leave thee..."

Steve replied, "Or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go..."

Bucky's eyes flickered around the room as he said, "And where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people..."

Steve joined him and they spoke the last lines together, so serious the hairs on the back of Tony's neck stood up. "Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried."

Bucky slipped a plain gold band onto Steve's finger. The ring Steve put on Bucky's metal finger glittered like it was made of fine mesh. It was very thin and flat, and too large for a few seconds, before it sparked and contracted tightly around the chassis, the tiny circuit drawing power from the arm until the filaments all melted together and it burned itself out. Once in place, it looked like a flatter twin to Steve's, almost painted on, exactly as designed.

Tony did not bounce in his seat with glee, because he was a grown man. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a near thing, though. His wedding gift was the best wedding gift.

"That's it," said Clint. "By the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church, and by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husbands. You may- well, there you go," he trailed off as Steve and Bucky lunged for each other and kissed like they were about two seconds from ripping their clothes off right then and there. The room erupted in applause. Thor burst into tears.

"C'mon, there's still some paperwork to sign." Clint motioned Sam and Natasha over to him and he pulled out a clipboard. Steve and Bucky followed after a long minute. They all signed the marriage license ("Clinton _Francis_? Really?" "Shut up.") and then faced the room again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present: Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, old married couple, now actually married!" More cheering, more crying, and then Steve and Bucky led the charge to the kitchen for dinner. The whole thing had taken less than twenty minutes.

Tony had been to some pretty big parties in his time, but this was still one of the biggest spreads of food he'd ever seen.

It turned out what Sam had been making Friday night was a huge wedding cake, topped with a miniature Captain Ameribear and Bucky Bear, left front paw wrapped in tinfoil. The layers were caramel apple, raspberry chocolate, and upside-down peach cake. Tony noticed Bucky actually had to surreptitiously adjust himself in his pants after trying some; Tony didn't judge him at all. It was amazing.

Clint had had the meat smoker going on the balcony all day, and was now hiding out there with a full plate and a six-pack, passing out barbecue and pretending to be incapable of the kind of gracious performance he'd just put on for his friends.

Tony finally figured out what Sam had asked Thor about on Thursday: the thunder god rolled in a cask and propped it up on the (already hopping) bar. Sam stuck a sign on it: _Asgardian Hooch/ Special for Steve and Bucky's Wedding/ Regular Humans Hands Off!_ Sam had a very good grasp on the kind of message most likely to be respected by the drunks the party was soon to be full of.

A few glasses of hooch later, it turned out Bucky'd made some kind of squares, all buttery crumbs and what tasted like date jam. He was feeding them to Steve - who was sitting in Bucky's lap, having had a few glasses of hooch himself - by hand and beaming.

Natasha said, "Sam told me date squares were the first thing you ever learned to cook."

"Which was really very brave of your Ma," Steve mused. "Doesn't the filling basically get boiled? Not that I was peeking," he added quickly; he'd been banned from the kitchen after delivering the salad he'd put together upstairs.

Bucky shrugged. "Ma believed in learning from experience. And I've always had steady hands."

"You know," said Natasha, "Canadians call it matrimonial cake."

Bucky ducked his head. "I know," he mumbled, "Ma got the recipe from a Canadian friend."

Steve tipped Bucky's face up and planted a boyish, smacking kiss on him. "You big mushball," he said fondly.

Of the rest of the food on the table, Tony didn't know who'd made what, but all of it tasted terrific. He stuffed his face, had a few drinks, then went back for seconds of his favorites.

By the time he looked up from filling in the corners, JARVIS had put some dance music on. The liquored-up crowd was shoving the furniture up against the walls and filtering into the middle of the floor. Tony, being pleasantly liquored-up himself, downed his latest drink and joined them.

He found himself dancing with Steve at one point. "I thought the grooms were supposed to dance first?" he asked.

"Bucky took pity on me," Steve answered. He really wasn't as bad of a dancer as he thought he was; that career as a showgirl had left him with some decent moves, though he clearly didn't realize it. Tony debated whether or not it would be weird to tell him so, but Steve spoke first.

"Bucky's ring," he said, "that was you, wasn't it?"

Tony nodded. "Part of an idea I had, for a patch kit for the suit."

"It's pretty keen. Thank you."

"Anytime; you know I'm all about gadgets." Tony tilted his head. "I just can't think of anything to give _you_."

Steve stared. "Tony. You gave us a _home_. Nothing will ever top that."

Bucky cut in just then, saying, "This guy bothering you, doll?"

Steve batted his lashes. "No, but you could if you tried your luck, mister." They spun off together, and Tony took the opportunity to flop onto the sofa between Pepper and Rhodey.

"Steve just thanked me for giving him and Bucky a home," he told Pepper.

"That was very sweet of him."

"The thing is, I'm pretty sure that's something I did for _me_." Tony looked out over the dance floor. Thor and Sif were either demonstrating Asgardian dance moves to Natasha, Sam, and Clint, or playing a practical joke by making something up and _saying_ it was Asgardian dance. Heming was laughing at them uproariously, which wasn't really a clue either way. Bruce was dancing with Dr. Foster, and Bucky was showing Darcy some kind of complicated old-timey spin, Steve assisting under Bucky's direction. Darcy looked mightily pleased to have the two men moving her around. All but two of these people lived in the Tower now. Tony could hardly remember it otherwise; it seemed horribly quiet by comparison.

"Gifts can be for more than one person at once," Pepper pointed out.

"For example," said Rhodey. He squeezed Tony's thigh to make sure Tony was paying attention. "You actually did pretty good this week, Tony. You learned your lesson like a champ-"

"If aliens are or will be attacking, I will have my robot butler keep calling my boyfriend until he picks up," Tony recited.

"Exactly. Now, your girlfriend and I have been talking, and if you do one more good thing, we're willing to double up on you tonight."

Tony's mouth went dry. He could count on one hand the number of times Rhodey and Pepper had gone at him together. "Really?"

"Really," said Pepper. "But first, you have to go over there, and dance with that nice scientist, and ask him for a date." Thor had collected Dr. Foster half a song ago, and Bruce was now dancing with Bucky.

Tony looked at Pepper's sweet little smile, and at Rhodey's broad sparkling one. God, he loved them both so much. "What the hell, I'm feeling like a lucky man tonight already." He kissed each of them, downed his drink, and stood up.

Bucky had at some point discarded his jacket and suit shirt, and was now dancing in his undershirt and suspenders, gleaming with sweat. As Tony got closer, he noticed that the scuffed red Soviet star was gone from Bucky's metal deltoid, and shining in its place was a perfect rendering of Steve's shield. He elbowed Steve, who was taking a breather by the cask of Asgardian hooch. "Art supplies, huh?"

Steve blushed. "We wanted the wedding to be - not a surprise, exactly, but not a whole big thing that got talked up before it happened? Just in case, right. Miss Potts says Bucky's probably going to become news as soon as we register the marriage."

"Seriously, let Pepper handle all that. She eats the press for breakfast. You two should hop on a plane to a secluded tropical island, and stay there until she says it's okay to come back. You can do that, you know; you just got married."

Steve looked thoughtful. "Maybe we will."

"I know some great islands. Get back to me." Looked like Tony was going to be able to give Steve a wedding present after all. He forged on.

"Bucky Bear! When was the last time you smooched your husband?"

Bucky blinked. "I don't know."

"Unacceptable; get over there." Tony neatly insinuated himself into Bruce's hands as Bucky pounced on Steve, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist. Being drunk for the first time in seventy years was making those two extremely suggestible.

Tony swayed to the beat, Bruce's hands warm on his waist. "Some party, huh?"

The corners of Bruce's eyes crinkled; Tony wanted to kiss them. "Yeah, it's pretty nice." Tony hoped the Hulk was getting to peek at the proceedings, too.

"Tony. What we were talking about, earlier."

"Yeah?"

"Betty hates New York. And the last letter I sent her was actually a card, congratulating her on the second anniversary of meeting her lovely partner. Their name is Chris; they're a police dog trainer, and really into biathlon."

"They and Clint must never meet," Tony said reflexively.

Bruce chuckled quietly. He was almost always quiet, when he was Bruce. Tony wondered what it would take to get him to be loud for happy reasons. And Tony always was the type of guy to pursue the things he wondered about. He took a deep breath and said, "Have dinner with me. Just me, on purpose. Not tonight, another night."

"You mean like a date?" Bruce said kindly.

Tony nodded gratefully.

"What do your partners think about that?" Bruce looked over at Rhodey and Pepper. Rhodey was chatting with Sif; if he was trying to chat her _up_ , Tony didn't think he was going to have much luck, judging by the way she'd been looking at Sam most of the night. Pepper was dancing with Natasha in a way that was - wow, really, um, inspiring.

"They like you just fine, and would appreciate you taking me off their hands from time to time." As if they knew they were being talked about, both Rhodey and Pepper glanced over at them and waved.

"Alright," said Bruce.

Tony's mouth fell open. "Really? Just like that?"

Bruce leaned down and kissed him lightly. "Just like that."

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Please excuse the Catholic boys from the 1940s quoting from the King James Bible (Ruth 1:16-17). 
> 
> 2\. The locker room scene was of course inspired by this image: http://dianmz.tumblr.com/post/96399716112/it-is-okay-buck
> 
> 3\. So, I picked Tony POV for a few reasons: he has the most complicated dating life and I felt that needed some filling in; he has the most metal arm thirst of anyone (except Steve) and there was going to be even more metal arm objectification originally; he's the only Avenger aside from Bruce who can believably think the word 'cephalothorax'. As it turns out, Tony's a fun guy to write, but I don't like him well enough to think about him naked. So, sorry for the fade-to-blacks. 
> 
> 4\. Thank you for hanging in there! I'm going to go scrub these traces of plot off me. We will now return to our regularly scheduled program of porn liberally strewn with feels and comfort food.


End file.
